BSC Portrait Collection: Jason's Book
by Rachel D
Summary: REVISED! Here's the autobiography of the new character we invented, Jason Everett. No flames please! COMPLETED!
1. Chapter 1

_**BSC PORTRAIT COLLECTION: Jason's Book**_

A/N: This is the autobiography of the new guy, Jason Everett.

**CHAPTER 1**

It was a fairly typical Thursday afternoon in Stoneybrook, Connecticut. It wasn't just any Thursday, either. Today was the last day of school before spring break. I was coming home from school on my motor scooter, and thinking about the assignment that the entire eighth grade had just been given: we each had to write our autobiographies. I could tell that writing mine was going to be quite a challenge, because a lot had happened to me until now. Wait, where are my manners? You don't know who I am! How silly of me!

My name's Jason Everett, I just turned fifteen this past February, and I'm in eighth grade, like I said (I'll explain why later). I have black shoulder-length hair that I always keep in a ponytail, green eyes, peaked eyebrows, and a scar on my right cheekbone, which I'll also explain later.

I was born in Scotland, in a little town just an hour and a half outside of Glasgow. I don't remember the name of the town anymore, though. You see, my mum and I moved to America when I was four years old. Even though I was that young at the time, for some reason, my accent never went away completely. (My favorite performer John Barrowman, who plays Capt. Jack Harkness on _Torchwood _on BBC America, came to America from Scotland when he was eight, but unlike me, he has the ability to switch back and forth between the American and Scottish accents.) Anyway, my friends tell me that I sound like a cross between Ewan McGregor in his pre-_Star Wars _days, when he guest-starred on _ER _during the show's third season and Nanny Stella from _Nanny 911. _The fact that I still have my accent used to bother me a lot, but I'm more used to it these days.

I was recently made a member of the Baby-sitters Club, which was started by my good friend and neighbor, Kristy Thomas. She told me that she got the idea for the club when she saw her mom having trouble for her brother David Michael, or DM, as I call him. Anyway, Kristy made me a member after our school finished their recent production of _Carnival. _Coincidentally, I played the part that Jerry Orbach did in the original Broadway production. It was the most fun I've had in a long time.

Getting back to the BSC. I'm an associate member, which means that they can call on me if there's a job that none of them can take. One of the reasons why Kristy asked me to join is because her two little stepsiblings, Karen and Andrew Brewer—who are seven and five, respectively—have taken quite a liking to me since I came to Andrew's aid after his bike accident last fall. Karen has even told me that I'm her hero, and that really meant the world to me.

A few days ago, I went on my first job. Kristy wanted me to go on a job with her so she could see how I did. Our job was with the Felder girls. Susan, who just turned nine, has autism, and Hope is seven months old. While we were there, Susan played the entire score from _The Music Man, _beginning to end, on the piano. I was really impressed. Kristy even told me that Susan can play any piece of music after hearing it only once. I played "Don't Stop Believin'" from my Journey CD, and Susan picked that up really fast, too. Kristy also told me that Susan has a calendar in her head, and when I told her my birthday—February 9, 1991—she automatically said "Saturday", and she was right on the money! When she wasn't playing or giving calendar dates, Susan would flap her hands and click her tongue, but she would stop whenever I spoke to her. Not only that, but every time I came near her, she would take one of my hands, press it against her face, and breathe deeply. To this day, I don't know what it is about me that made her calm down like that.

There's something else Kristy told me about Susan. She said that one of the neighborhood kids, Mel somebody-or-other, had charged some of the other kids a dollar apiece to see Susan play the piano and perform her calendar trick, like she was some kind of sideshow freak. I was really stunned and horrified, and I couldn't believe that anyone could be so cruel. I also don't mean to get off the subject here, but Kristy also told me that this Mel kid would constantly tease the Hobart boys by calling them "Crocs", because they're Australian. You know, like Crocodile Dundee. Another time, when he was being punished by his parents, he'd sneak out and leave threatening notes for the BSC members and play pranks on them. When his parents found out, they sent him to a psychiatrist, because they knew he was a troubled kid. That's one of several reasons why I'm so protective of Susan, and Kristy says she really admires me for that.

Well, anyway, back to me. I pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex, and saw Mum watering the lawn. "Hi, Mum!" I called, turning off the motor.

"Hi, son," she smiled. "How was school today?"

"Oh, pretty good," I said, chaining up my bike. "Oh, our English teacher wants us to write our autobiographies."

"That sounds interesting," Mum answered, turning off the hose. "Would you like some help with it?"

"Sure," I answered as I helped Mum roll up the garden hose, and we went inside. I sat down at the kitchen table with my English notebook. This particular notebook is my favorite, because it's covered with the names and logos of some of my favorite bands, like Thin Lizzy, the Scorpions, Black Sabbath, the Misfits, and Van Halen, to name a few. My friends sometimes ask me why I don't listen to more of today's current music. In my opinion, the music industry has become a real parody of itself.

"So, what did you want to know?" Mum asked, handing me a cup of green tea, and sitting down across the table with another one.

"Well, we can start with the day I was born," I suggested, opening my notebook, uncapping my pen, and preparing to write.

"Sure. Well, I went into labor around 8:00 in the evening on February 8th. Your Granny McLeod, my mum, God rest her soul, took me to the hospital and helped me through the birth. You were born at 2:15 a.m. on February 9th. Sometime after we brought you home from the hospital, the colonel stopped by to give me your real father's ID tags. I promised to hold on to them until you were old enough to understand what happened."

While Mum was talking, I was writing and clutching the tags in my left hand. They're the only connection I have to him, because before I was born, he was shot down in the Persian Gulf War. It still saddens me to this day that I never knew him.

"Is there anything else you'd like to know?" Mum asked.

"Do you remember my first step or my first word?"

"Well, if I'm not mistaken, you were ten or eleven months old when you started walking, and you were pretty hard to catch once you got going," Mum remembered. "In fact, I can still see you in the icebox getting into your granny's strawberry shortcake."

We both laughed at the memory, and that's something she'll never let me forget. She even has a picture of that, and in it, I'm buck naked, the icebox door is standing wide open, and my entire hand is just submerged into that cake! I'm just glad she's never shown it to anyone, not even Steve, my stedad. Otherwise, I'd never hear the end of it.

"How about my first word?" I inquired, taking a sip of tea.

"Ah, yes," Mum said, picking up a pack of Virginia Superslims. "I remember it like the back of my hand." Then, closing her eyes, she continued, "Let's see...yes, there's a mole on my thumb and a scar on my wrist from when I burned it ironing your overalls."

"Mum!" I laughed.

"Okay, okay," she giggled. "You started talking soon after you started walking. Since your father was already dead, we couldn't expect your first word to be 'Dada'. I thought for sure it'd be 'Mama'. Well, I was close. It was actually 'Nana'. We were so happy, we broke down and bawled right then and there. I"ll remember it till the day I die. So, is there anything else you'd like to know?"

"No, I think that pretty much covers it," I said, standing up and gathering my notes. "Thanks, Mum."

"You're more than welcome, son," she said, lighting her cigarette.

I went to my room, set my tea on my desk, and got out a fresh sheet of paper, a pencil, and my lap desk. As I flopped down onto my bed, I knew, from what Mum had told me, and from my own memories, that I had quite a story to tell.


	2. Chapter 2: The First Four Years

**CHAPTER 2: The First Four Years**

**BI-CONTINENTAL LIFE**

**by Jason Everett**

_It was a pretty normal childhood, those first few years. Whilst Mum and Granny worked at the local nursing home, I would be at the day care centre, which was on the first level of the building. It wasn't my favourite place in the world, but at least it was better than being left alone with some strange baby-sitter, or even one that smelled horrible beyond belief, for that matter. That's pretty much what life was like, until I was four years old, which was when everything changed..._

I was playing in my room one early spring afternoon when Granny came in with a sad look on her face. I sensed that something was wrong, but I didn't know what. "What is it, Granny?" I asked as I put down the toy I was holding.

"Your mother has something to tell you, Jason," she answered, helping me to my feet. Right then and there, I knew I wasn't going to like what Mum had to say.

"What's wrong?"

"Just come with me," Granny said. She took my hand and we walked into the living room. Mum was sitting on the ottoman. She was sort of smiling, but when I saw that her eyes were red from crying, that's when I knew something had happened.

"Jason," Mum said, pulling me onto her lap, "I have a new job."

"Oh, Mummy, that's terrific!" I said happily. I guessed it wasn't such bad news after all.

"Aye," Mum went on, "but that means we'll have to move. You see, love, my new job is in New York, which is in America. That's really far away from here."

Uh-oh. This didn't sound good. I should've had that figured out when I saw Mum's face, not to mention her tone of voice. At that moment, I blurted out the one question I wish I'd never asked: "What about Granny? Will she be going with us?"

When I asked that, the tears just spilled down Mum's face. That was all it took for me to understand that the answer was no.

I was speechless. As I slid off Mum's lap, everything started to come together. New York. America. A whole 'nother country. I opened my mouth, struggling to say something, anything. Instead, I instantly started to cry. Hysterically. And I will wager you money that you could hear me a mile away.

Granny pulled me onto her lap and put her arms around me. "Sh-sh-shh," she whispered, petting my hair. I buried my face into her sweater, just feeling the soft wool against my forehead and the smell of her perfume filling my nose as I sobbed. To this day, I still don't remember the rest of that afternoon, mostly because I cried myself to sleep. All I remember is that for the first time in my life, I began to understand what the real world was all about.

And on that day, it was just bloody awful.

About a week later, we finished up the last of the packing while we waited for the cab. Mum and Granny were talking to each other, but I don't remember all of what they said, other than, "Don't forget to write", "We'll call as soon as we can", things like that. I sat huddled on the couch, clutching the Linus blanket that Granny had crocheted for me when I was born. On the upside, I wasn't sucking my thumb, mostly because I was getting too old to do that.

"The cab will be here soon, sweetheart," I heard Granny's voice say. I looked up at her and felt a huge knot forming in my throat. It felt almost as big as Loch Lomond.

"I don't _want _things to change," I said, fighting the tears. "Why can't you come with us?"

"Oh, Jason," Granny said softly. "I wish I could, but my place is here. My job, my future, everything else."

"Will I ever see you again?"

"I'll come visit you, darling," Granny said. "I promise."

"Promise?"

"Scouts' honor," Granny said, giving the Scouts' salute. I managed a tiny smile, even though I knew my heart was crumbling.

At that moment, the cab pulled up. I threw my arms around Granny and hugged her for the longest time as Mum took our suitcases outside.

"Jason? It's time to go, love," Mum said. After she and Granny hugged, she took my hand and started to lead me to the door.

"Now, be brave," Granny said, cupping my chin in her hand, "and don't look back. Don't look back."

It wouldn't be easy, but as the cab pulled out of the driveay and began its journey to Glasgow International Airport, I made a vow to myself that I'd do it for her.

"Jason? Jason, time to wake up."

That was the first thing I heard. I knew it was Mum's voice, b ut I had no idea where I was, until I heard a seatbelt unbuckling and a Christopher Lee-sounding voice saying, "Welcome to New York City. The local time is 6:23 p.m., Eastern Daylight Time. The local weather is cloudy, with a 40 percent chance of rain, approximately 19 degrees Celsius. Thank you for flying British Airways, and have a nice day."

The next thing I knew, Mum had picked me up and carried me off the plane. Even though I don't remember much of the flight, other than changing planes at Heathrow Airport in London, I'm just glad it wasn't anything like the story about little Jeffrey from _Bill Cosby, Himself_!

When we got out into the terminal, I heard a voice calling, "Diann! Hi! How are you?"

That woke me right up, as well as Mum saying, "Hi, Sis!"

I looked around to see who the voice belonged to, and that's when I saw her. She was a very pretty woman, and she looked about five years younger than Mum, but she was also the spitting image of Granny. I could tell, because that's how she looked in one of Mum's baby pictures. She had platinum-blond hair, like Alice in Wonderland, and a large, round stomach. With her was a tall black man with short curly hair, a moustache and soul patch, and silver-rimmed glasses. With or without them, he looked like a young Billy Dee Williams.

"Ohh, who's this?" I heard the woman say sweetly as she looked in my direction. I looked at her for a moment, held up four fingers, then buried my face into Mum's shoulder again. Who _was _this person?

"Aww, Diann, he's so _cuuuute," _she said, then she started singing, _"A, you're adorable, B, you're so beautiful..." _I covered my ear and buried my face deeper into Mum's shoulder. It's because of that kind of singing that Simon Cowell now has a career.

"Oh, don't mind Jason," Mum said. "He's just had a long day." Then she pried my hand off my ear and said, "Jason, it's all right. It's Aunt Amy, my sister. Remember?"

I looked at her again, just sizing her up, as if to say, "Okay, if you say so, you're Aunt Amy. So what do you want from me?"

"Hi," I whispered. What _was _I supposed to say?

"Hey, little buddy," the man grinned. "I'm your Uncle Aaron. Remember me?"

I didn't, but I knew I had to be polite, so I waved at him, then hid my face again.

On the way to the baggage terminal, I heard the women talking. One of the things I heard was, "So, how are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm hanging in there," Aunt Amy said. "And believe me, I'm so glad there's only one more month to go before the baby's born, and the sooner the better."

"Amen to that!" Mum agreed, laughing.

All the while, my face stayed hidden. Here I was, a stranger in a strange place, surrounded by all these people I'd never seen before, pretty much scared out of my mind. I thought for sure that I was going to start crying again, but after I remembered what Granny had said about being brave, I decided there was no wasy I was going to let that happen.

When we got outside the airport, I heard Uncle Aaron say, "You'll really like our place, Diann. In fact, we just bought a new pool." Those words got my attention in one second flat. I popped my head right up and looked at him, smiling and wiggling in Mum's arms.

"Well, somebody's getting excited!" Mum smiled, setting me down. That's when the car pulled up, and we got in. I heard the adults talking, but I wasn't listening. All I could think about was that pool!

It was only my first day in America, but I knew the adventure was just beginning.


	3. Chapter 3: A New Family Life

**CHAPTER 3: A New Family Life**

_The next couple of months were pretty exciting. Uncle Aaron and Aunt Amy's house in Manhattan was really something. I guess when you work for the UN (Aunt Amy) or Bloomingdale's (Uncle Aaron), life can be pretty wonderful, especially if you're going to have a baby. In fact, about a month after our arrival, that's exactly what happened..._

It was 6:45 on a Thursday morning. The first thing I heard was Uncle Aaron's voice saying, "Jason? Hey, Jason, wake up, little buddy. I need to talk to you."

I woke up, yawning and trying to open my eyes. "Wh...what is it?" I asked.

"Aunt Amy's going to the hospital now," my uncle answered.

"What? Why?"

"She's having the baby," Uncle Aaron told me. "You're going to have a new cousin."

When I heard that, I woke right up. "I _am?" _I exclaimed. He nodded, and I threw my arms around him. I was the happiest little boy in the world when I heard this.

"Well, we should be going now," Uncle Aaron said happily. "We'll call as soon as we can, okay?"

I nodded as Uncle Aaron gave me a kiss and walked out of the room. I lay in bed for several more minutes, but I couldn't get back to sleep. I mean, if you were just told that your aunt was about to bring your new cousin into the world, you'd have trouble falling asleep, too, right? I jumped out of bed and went to the kitchen, where I found Mum making breakfast. "Good morning, honey," she said. "Did you sleep well?"

I nodded as I sat down at the table, then I started firing questions at Mum: "Is Aunt Amy going to be all right? When will the baby be here?"

"She's going to be just fine," Mum answered, setting a bowl of oatmeal in front of me. "The baby will be here soon."

Well, that was good news. "You know something, Mummy?" I asked. "I'm glad we moved here. I think I'm starting to like it in America already."

"Me, too," Mum smiled, dropping a couple of sugar cubes into her coffee. "And don't worry. We'll find a place of our own someday."

I was glad to hear that, but at the same time, I couldn't wait to meet my new cousin.

Several hours later, Mum and I were watching _Sesame Street _on the telly when the phone rang. Mum scooted across the couch to answer it.

"Hello?" I heard her say. "Oh, hi, Aaron...She _did?..._Oh, that's just wonderful!...Yes, I'll be there as soon as I can, but what about Jason?...Okay, I'll tell him. And don't worry, I'll keep an eye on things whilst you're away...Okay, thanks again, and a thousand blessings upon you both. 'Bye."

Mum hung up the phone and faced me. "That was your Uncle Aaron. Your Aunt Amy had a baby girl, Alexandra Jane Lennon. She weighs 7 pounds, 2 ½ ounces, was born at 11:18 a.m., and she's perfectly healthy."

I couldn't believe it. This was my _cousin! _I have a new _cousin! _"That's great, Mummy!" I cried. "When are we going to get to see her?"

"You'll get to see her soon, love," Mum said, putting her hand on mine. "I'm going to the hospital to see them this evening. Uncle Aaron told me I have to leave you with Mrs. Sullivan for a little while."

"Okay!" I grinned. I liked going over to Mrs. Sullivan's house. Her son Luke was a lot of fun to play with, even though he's blind, and almost a year yonger than me. Other than that, he was and still is one of my best friends.

Well, the day that I got to meet Alex, which is what I call her, finally arrived. The first thing I remember Mum saying to me is, "Now, remember, Jason, she's still very little, and she may be kind of scared of being around so many people, so be nice to her, and keep your voice down around her."

"I will," I promised. "I'm just glad I'm finally going to get to meet her."

At that moment, I heard the car pull into the driveway. They were home! I ran to the front door and opened it. Even though I was really excited, I still remembered what Mum told me.

"Hi, Jason," Aunt Amy smiled. "Let's all go inside so we can see your new cousin."

After Mum and Uncle Aaron carried Aunt Amy's things into the house, the three of them sat on the couch, and I sat on Mum's lap, where I got a good look at Alex. She had dark curly hair, like Uncle Aaron, and really dark skin. When she opened her eyes, I noticed that they were a fairly dark greenish-brown. "Can I touch her?" I whispered to Aunt Amy. She nodded, and I ran my fingertips across Alex's arm. Her nightie felt as soft as a kitten, and she smelled of baby lotion. That's one smell I've always loved, and from that day on, whenever I smelled it, I thought of Alex.

"Oh, Amy, she's beautiful," Mum whispered. "Isn't she beautiful, Jason?"

I nodded, and a tear slid down my face. The first time I saw Alex, I was truly thankful to be here, and also to have her for a cousin.

Now, don't get me wrong—I was glad she was here, but I absolutely hated it at night. You see, when Mum and I first arrived in New York, I was given the room that was to be the nursery, but when shecame, she cried all night. At first, I was more than happy to comfort her, but it soon got to the point where I had to sleep on the couch. Fortunately, I didn't have to put up with it for very long, because a month later, Mum had some good news.

"Guess what, Jason?" she said one Saturday night while she was giving me my bath. "Aunt Amy helped me find a flat this afternoon."

"Oh, really?" I asked. I was glad to hear this. It meant that I wouldn't have to put up with Alex crying at night anymore. (By the way, Alex, if you ever read this, you know I still love you to death, right?) "Where is it?"

"It's on the Upper West Side of Manhattan," Mum answered. "There's probably a lot of kids there for you to play with, and you should be able to make new friends."

"Do you think so?"

"Sure I do. Remember how nice you were to Luke when you first met him?"

"Aye," I said. "Well, time to get out now?"

"Mm-hm. Would you like to...?"

I pulled the plug out of the drain before Mum could finish her sentence. While the water drained, Mum wrapped a towel around me, lifted me out of the tub, and dried me off. "I've also noticed that you've been sleeping on the couch," Mum commented as she finished blow-drying my hair. "How would you like to sleep in my room tonight?"

"Sure!" I said. Anything was better than that couch.

"Good. I'll pull out the duvet for you," Mum smiled, then left me alone to put on my pajama bottoms and brush my teeth.

_We're getting a flat, _I thought over and over again.

Before I went to bed that night, I knelt beside the duvet to say my prayers. "Dear God, thank You for the new flat, for bringing Alex into the world, and for watching over Mummy and me on our way to America. Please watch over Granny, and take care of Daddy for us. Amen."

I climbed into bed. Mum kissed me good night, turned off the light, and left the room, leaving the door ajar. As I fell asleep, I thanked God again for all that He'd done for us. I also wondered what our new home was like, and how soon we'd be moving.

A week later, Mrs. Sullivan drove us to our new home, which only took about half an hour. She and Mum were talking in the front seat, but I wasn't listening, because Luke and I were having our own conversation. Oh, I should probably tell you what Luke looks like, too.

It's been a few months since I've seen him, but at the time, he was about a couple of inches shorter than me. He also had—and still does, unless he's changed it—dark brown, almost blond hair, and pale blue eyes. Like I said before, he's blind, and has been since birth, I'm told. But he's still a good friend.

"I'm really glad you've got a place to live now, Jason," he said.

"Thanks," I said. "You know, you can come visit me any time you want."

"Sounds great. I'll talk to Mommy about it," Luke grinned, and we pinky-swore.

That's when I happened to look out the window and see the World Trade Center. I had no idea that it was even possible for any building to be anywhere near that tall. I also wondered what went on inside those two towers, and what it would be like to go all the way to the top.

None of us could've suspected what would eventually happen to them.

We arrived at our new home a few minutes later. The inside was really pretty: fully-furnished, wall-to-wall carpeting, cable TV, dishwasher, garbage disposal, and a Jacuzzi. My room was pretty cool, too. The walls were light blue with white clouds painted on them, and the door had a poster of the Statue of Liberty hanging on it. (In case you're wondering, I was asleep when we flew over the real thing.)

I looked out my window, and saw that I had a _great _view of Central Park. I was about to turn away from the window when something caught my eye. It was a man in a tan business suit crossing the street, carrying his little girl on his shoulders. Now, this girl was adorable. She looked like she was around my age, and had golden-blond hair in two braids, and was wearing a yellow short-sleeved polo shirt, red overalls, and white sneakers with red trim. Halfway across the street, she looked up to where I was, and smiled. And what a beautiful smile she had, too.

I didn't know it at the time, but the little girl was Stacey McGill.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

The next few months passed very quickly, or so it seemed. Uncle Aaron, Aunt Amy, Alex, Mum, and I went to Scotland for Thanksgiving. We left on the Tuesday before, and came back the following Sunday. And Granny came to New York for Christmas and New Year's. She arrived on December 23rd, and stayed with Uncle Aaron, Aunt Amy, and Alex until the 28th. We had dinner with them on Christmas Day, then Granny stayed with us until she returned to Scotland on January 2nd.

My fifth birthday also came and went. I still remember that day like it was yesterday. My party was at Chuck E. Cheese, and Luke and I were going to have a contest to see who could eat the most pizza without getting sick, but our mums were there to make sure we didn't go through with it. Grown-ups.

About a month later, Mum woke me on a Saturday morning and said, "Jason, I need to go to Wal-Mart for a few things, and maybe whilst we're there, we can have your picture taken at the Portrait Studio, because Granny and the other relatives don't have a recent picture of you."

"Okay, Mummy, sounds great," I said as I got out of bed. Mum told me to dress up in my best suit for the pictures, which, at the time, consisted of black dress pants, a blue shirt, black socks, dress shoes, and suspenders, which Mum helped me with. It had been a Christmas present from Granny, and it basically made me look Amish or Mennonite.

After I got dressed, Mum lifted me up on the stepstool so I could look in the mirror. I thought I looked an awful lot like Harvey Stephens, who played Damien in the original version of _The Omen, _right down to the green eyes. The biggest difference is that his hair is naturally blond, and was dyed black to play the part. On the upside, I don't have the piercing eyes or the "666" tattooed on my scalp. On second thought, maybe I _do _have the piercing eyes, but I don't kill people just by glaring at them.

We ate breakfast, and were soon on our way.

At Wal-Mart, Mum and I headed to the Portrait Studio. I was riding in her cart, which I enjoyed. The fun part was, every time she came to an empty aisle, she'd let go of the cart and let it run, then run to catch it. In fact, if you asked a hundred people about their fondest childhood memory, don't be surprised if almost all of them say either riding in the shopping cart or riding the carousel. Why that question was never asked on _Family Feud, _search me.

Anyway, when we got to the Portrait Studio, we saw a big muscular man and his baby girl waiting in line. "Are you next?" Mum asked as she lifted me out of the cart.

He turned around. "Yes," he answered. "I came to have my daughter's one-year pictures taken."

"Really? My son and I moved here from Scotland about a year ago, and his relatives back home don't have a recent picture of him."

"Scotland, huh? I was just trying to figure out the accent there. No offense."

"None taken."

"Oh, by the way, I'm Steve Everett, and this is my daughter, Bebe."

"Diann Crowe," Mum said as they shook hands. "This is my son, Jason."

I got a good look at them. Steve really dark brown hair, brown eyes, tan skin, and was wearing a New York Jets jersey, dark blue jeans, brown boots, and a brown leather bomber jacket. Bebe had strawberry-blond hair and gray eyes, and was wearing a blue frilly dress, like she'd wear to a wedding, black patent-leather Mary Janes, and had a blue ribbon fixed in her hair.

"Hi," Steve said, kneeling down to my level. I stared at him, while clinging to Mum's hand. Finally, I held up five fingers. Mum and Steve smiled, and as Steve got back up, he said, "Bebe here just turned a year old yesterday."

"Oh, she's just darling," Mum said lovingly. "I remember when Jason was that age."

"Next!" the photographer called.

"Well, I'll probably see you when Bebe gets done," Steve said. Mum nodded, and Steve and Bebe disappeared into the studio.

While they were having their pictures done (I could faintly hear Bebe screaming bloody murder the whole time), Mum knelt down to my level and said, "He seems very nice, don't you think?"

I nodded. "I wonder what happened to Bebe's mummy," I said.

"If we see him again, we probably shouldn't ask him. It may be none of our business, you know," Mum said. She had a good point. I mean, I wouldn't want someone asking me a question like that, just out of the blue.

After Steve and Bebe were done, it was our turn. The photographer was a pretty Japanese-American woman who looked like she was in her early 20s. She had five earrings in each ear: three on her actual earlobe, and two on the very top of her ear, and dark red streaks in her hair. Her demeanor was very cheerful, and I could tell she liked kids.

There were several backgrounds to choose from, but one in particular caught my eye. It was a beach scene with waves crashing against the rocks as the sun was setting. It looked so real. "That's the one!" I said excitedly as I pointed to it.

"No problem," the photographer said. "You know, you're the fifth kid to choose that one today."

"Really? Do I get a prize or something?"

Mum and the photographer laughed as I sat down on the table. After the photographer posed me the way she wanted, she went behind the camera and said, "Okay, look up here for me, sweetheart. Can you give us a smile?"

I did just that. CLICK! It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust after the camera flashed, but it was worth it. For as long as I could remember, the one word that could never describe me was camera-shy.

After we were done, Mum paid for the pictures, and the photographer told us to come back in three weeks to pick them up.

When we came out of the studio, we saw Steve sitting on a bench. He was holding Bebe on his lap, and was singing to her to help her calm down. I couldn't understand the words, mostly because they sounded like they were in another language. "Um, excuse me, but what are you singing?" I asked.

Steve looked surprised for a moment, then he answered, "Oh, this is an Italian folk song that my mother used to sing to me."

"Well, it seems to have worked," Mum observed. And she was right. Bebe was fast asleep.

"Well, we should be going now," Steve said as he stood up. Bebe stirred a little, then went back to sleep. "It was nice meeting you."

"Nice meeting you," Mum answered.

He seemed like a nice guy, and I could tell that Mum liked him, too.

We saw Steve a couple more times after that Saturday at Wal-Mart. One day, he said, "How about if the four of us go out to dinner sometime? My treat."

"Sounds great," Mum said. I nodded in agreement.

"Great. Why don't you give me your phone number, and I'll call you with the time?"

"Okay," Mum agreed. She gave Steve our phone number, and we were soon on our way.

Well, that following Saturday after we'd picked up the pictures (Just don't call me Damien if I ever show them to you, okay?), we met Steve and Bebe at the Olive Garden, which was about a mile or so from Wal-Mart.

The maitre d' showed us to a booth in the non-smoking section, and got a booster seat for me and a high chair for Bebe. After we got our menus and placed our drink orders (milk for me and Bebe, iced tea for Mum, and wine for Steve), Mum said, "This is a really nice place, Steve. Thanks for bringing us here."

"No problem, Diann," Steve said. "So, you're from Scotland, huh?"

"Aye," Mum answered. "I miss my family over there, and Jason misses his granny."

When I heard Mum say that, I immediately thought of Granny, and wondered how she was doing. I'm pretty sure Mum was thinking of her, too.

"Must have been pretty hard for you to leave, huh?"

"I'll say."

"I think I know what you mean," Steve said. "I felt the same way when we left Canada."

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"No, not at all. Well, you see, my divorce from my first wife, Marie, was finalized about three months ago. She was bipolar, and not keeping up with her meds. Well, after one pretty ugly night—and I'll spare you the details—I packed a couple of suitcases for us, and left, leaving her with the divorce papers. I just didn't want anything to happen to Bebe, so we left. Between that and telling my boss, who had been my father-in-law at the time, that I had to leave, I couldn't tell you which sucked worse."

I was stunned. Even though I was too young to fully understand what this was all about, I was glad he did what he did. (By the way, I recently asked Steve about whatever became of Marie, and he told me that the last he'd heard, she was in a mental institution up in Saskatchewan.)

"You did the right thing concerning Bebe," Mum said, taking Steve's hand. "I wish more people were that sensible when it came to a child's safety."

"Thank you," Steve said, kissing hers.

_Blecch, _I thought, very discreetly covering my eyes with my hand. How could anyone do something that gross? Oh, well, at least he kissed her hand.

By then, the waitress arrived with our drinks and took our food orders. So far, I really liked Steve and Bebe, and I wouldn't be surprised at all if Mum and Steve got married soemeday, which, of course, they did.

Foreshadowing? I think so.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

Four months later, Mum was tucking me into bed on a Sunday night. "I have something to show you, Jason," she said, holding out her left hand. On her ring finger was a yellow-gold ring with a large square diamond on it.

"Oh, Mummy, that's pretty," I said. "What does it mean?"

"It means that in about two months, Steve and I will be married, and he'll be your new daddy," she answered.

I sat up and started bouncing up and down on the bed. "Really? Really? Really?" I cried.

"Aye, he will be your stepfather," Mum said.

I gave Mum a hug, then pulled away, because I thought of something. "Will that mean Bebe's my stepsister?" I asked. Even though Bebe was barely a year and a half old, I'd grown to love her like she was my real sister.

Mum nodded. "That's right, because she already has a mummy."

"Oh, I get it."

"We'll talk more about it tomorrow, all right? Right now, it's time to go to sleep."

"All right, Mummy. I love you."

"I love you, too." She gave me a kiss, and as was our routine, left the door ajar as she walked out. As I fell asleep, I just knew I'd love having Steve and Bebe in our family.

Two months later, on the night before the wedding, after we got home from the rehearsal dinner, Mum and I were sitting on the couch, talking about my duties as the ring bearer. "Now, I assume you remember what to do, yes?" Mum asked.

I nodded. "I carry the rings on the pillow, come down the aisle ahead of you, then I stand still and wait until the priest asks me for the rings," I said.

"Very good," Mum said. At that moment, the doorbell rang. "I'll be right back."

A minute later, I heard Mum's voice saying, "Mum! Hi!"

"Hello, darling," I heard Granny's voice say. I jumped off the couch, ran to her, and threw my arms around her waist. It was great to see her again!

"Oh, Granny, I've missed you so much!" I exclaimed.

"I've missed you, too, Jason," she said.

"Have you been to see Amy, Aaron, and Alexandra yet?" Mum asked.

"I actually got in yesterday, and spent the night there," Granny said. "Little Alexandra's growing like a weed."

"I'm so glad you've made it," Mum said.

"You didn't think I was going to miss your wedding, did you?" Granny asked. "Steve seems like a great man, and I'm sure your father's happy for you, too. I even know that David would want you to be happy."

"Thanks, Mum," Mum said.

Tomorrow is going to be the most beautiful day in the world.

The next day was the wedding. We pulled into the parking lot behind St. Patrick's Cathedral, which was on 5th Avenue.

"It's going to be all right, Diann," Granny said as we got out of the car. "You've been through this before, so there's nothing to worry about."

"Thanks, Mum. You know something? I sure hope Steve doesn't decide to go sky-diving today."

I smiled, remembering that two-part episode of _Full House _that aired during the show's fourth season. "Darling," I said in a high-pitched, whimpering voice, "(SNIFF) I hope you're all right (SNIFF), and if you are..." Then,in a threatening voice, I added, "I'll kill you."

We all got a good laugh as we headed toward the church. Granny gave Mum a kiss, and went out into the sanctuary to find her seat as I took my place and waited.

Soon, it was my turn to come down the aisle. I remembered everything Mum and I had talked about the night before, except when to stop. In fact, I was so awestruck by how wonderful the church looked, I walked right past Steve and toward the piano. That got more than a few laughs from some of the guests. I'm just glad I didn't walk headfirst into the piano and have to listen to some wise guy saying something about sending that to _America's Funniest Home Videos._

But just the same, Steve grabbed my arm and gently but firmly pulled me back to where I was supposed to be. "Now, stay here," he whispered.

The next thing I knew, Mum was coming down the aisle. She was wearing a white wedding dress with long sleeves and no train. When I saw her, my jaw was on the floor. I also couldn't help noticing tears streaming down Granny's face. I could tell she thought Mum looked beautiful, too.

Well, the ceremony finally began. The priest started with the "Dearly beloved" speech, and as boring as I thought it all was, I stood perfectly still and waited for him to ask me for the rings. When he finally did, I held the pillow up like I was supposed to, but Mum's ring fell off and started rolling down the aisle. Even though the doors of the church were locked, I couldn't just stand there and watch Mum's ring roll away. I had to do something.

"Here, hold this," I whispered to Steve, handing him the pillow. Then I took off down the aisle, even though I know you're not supposed to run in church, and dove for the ring. I slapped my palm down over it as soon as I hit the floor. There was a communal gasp from the guests. Clearly, they weren't expecting to see someone do something like that, not even a five-year-old boy.

_"Yes!" _I whispered. Wow, what a catch! I picked up the ring, ran back to my place, handed it to Steve, took back the pillow, and the rest of the ceremony continued uneventfully. Well, sort of.

When Mum and Steve kissed—and a pretty big smooch, mind you—I heard some of the little kids, maybe around my age or younger, saying, _"Ewwww!", _not to mention some teenagers shouting, "PDA! PDA! PDA!" I had no idea what "PDA" meant at the time, but my five-year-old mind figured it meant something really gross.

The reception was a blast. Everyone I talked to told me either how handsome I looked in my suit, or what a good job I did. One elderly gentleman, who I later found out was Steve's Great-Uncle Vito, told me that when I caught the ring, I looked like a pint-sized James Bond.

A while later, I was talking to a group of girls when Steve came over. "Hi, kiddo," he said. "Having a good time?"

"Aye. It's the most fun I've ever had."

"I'll say! Looks like you won't have any trouble getting a dance today, huh?"

I couldn't help giggling, and not surprisingly, that set the girls off, too.

"Say, uh, can I talk to you for a minute?" Steve asked once they'd calmed down.

"Sure, Steve," I agreed, and followed him over to the head table. "What's up?"

"Your mother and I have a little something for you, Jason," Steve said, handing me a white box with a black bow on it.

When I opened it, my face just lit up like the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. It was a music box/snowglobe of the Manhattan skyline. It had a little crank on the bottom, and when I wound it, it played "Memory" from _Cats, _which is one of Mum's favorite songs. It currently sits on my bookshelf.

I was so happy, I broke down and bawled my eyes out. I flung my arms around Steve, and he scooped me up on his lap. "Thank you so much," I choked.

"You're more than welcome, son," he said. He was crying, too. I was a little surprised, because that was the first time I'd ever seen a grown man cry.

"Jason," he sniffled, "your mother and I had a long talk about what's going to happen to our family now that she's taken my last name, and we were also wondering if you'd like to do that."

For a minute, I didn't say a word, then it started to sink in. I wasn't going to be a Crowe anymore. I was going to be an Everett, just like Mum, Steve, and Bebe.

I wiped my eyes and nodded. On that day, my life changed forever.


	6. Chapter 6: Life on Long Island

**CHAPTER 6: Life on Long Island**

_ Whilst Mum and Steve were on their honeymoon, Granny, Bebe, and I stayed at the apartment that Mum and I were getting ready to vacate. Mum had started some of the packing already, but Granny and I finished the rest of it for her. On the day that Mum and Steve came home, we packed everything up into a big van and moved to Steve's apartment on Long Island. The next day, Mum and Steve took me to court and legally changed my last name from Crowe to Everett. It was one of the best days of my life. The next year, instead of going into first grade, Luke and I ended up in mixed group. The years after that, we were in first grade, and I learned some pretty important stuff about myself..._

I know what you're probably thinking: "Why didn't you just go into first grade after you finished kindergarten?" Well, I'll tell you why. Remember when I said that my accent never went away completely? Because of that, I endured relentless, constant teasing from the other kids. In fact, it got to the point where I refused to speak out in class, or anywhere else ouside of home—a condition that a psychologist would call "selective mutism". If I did, I knew what was coming: "Hey, Scotty!" or "Where did you learn to talk?" You name it, they said it. In fact, I remember countless days of coming home in tears because of it. Mum or Steve would always try to reassure me that I wasn't the one with the problem, _they _were. No matter what they said, however, I felt like I had no good qualities to be proud of. As a result, I absolutely hated going to school.

Eventually, my teacher became concerned that I wasn't developing at a normal rate because of my self-conscious attitude toward my accent. My teacher and the principal called Mum and Steve in for a conference, and we talked for a long time. It was decided that the next year, I would be in mixed group. I was a little disappointed at first, but when I found out that Luke would be doing this as well, I felt a little better. I was just glad that, whatever we went through, we'd go through it together. If it weren't for my family, as well as my friendship with Luke, I don't know where I'd be.

Now that I look back on those days, I know Mum and Steve were right. I also know that prejudice, whether it's against skin color, a disability, a weight problem, or something as trivial as an accent, still exists today. I wish it didn't, but it does.

On a Tuesday morning—February 9, 1999—I woke up and remembered that it was my birthday. I got out of bed and went to the calendar. Yup, sure enough, there it was. I was eight years old that day.

When I came into the kitchen, I saw Mum sitting at the table, looking at something in her hand. "Hi, Mum," I said. She gave a tiny jump, then looked up at me.

"Good morning, love," she said. "Happy birthday, too."

"Thanks. Um, what is that?"

"Oh, these? These were your father's."

"Huh?" I asked. Steve was the only father I'd ever known. What was she talking about?

"I figured you'd say that," Mum said. "You see, I was married once before I married Steve. Your father—your real father, I mean—was killed in a war just a month before you were born, and his commanding officer gave me these."

She held out her hand. In it was a silver chain with two silver tags on it, and this is what I saw on them:

**CROWE, DAVID L.**

** A-positive**

** 952-86-1234**

** CATHOLIC**

Oh, my God.

This was my _father's. _

My real father, a man I never knew existed until now, and ultimately, I would never know him, because he was gone.

"These were _his?" _I managed to say as soon as I'd found my voice.

She nodded. "I held on to these until now, because I figured you'd be old enough to understand what happened."

There was only one question I had to ask her, and I had to do it now: "Does Steve know about this?"

She nodded again. "We had a long talk about it recently, and we decided that you should know sooner or later, and that you had a right to know."

"I'll keep them forever," I promised, giving Mum a hug. "Thanks so much."

"You're more than welcome, son," she whispered. This was the best thing she'd ever given me.

When I got home from school, Steve was waiting for me. "Jason, look what I've got," he said, holding up his hand. In it were four tickets.

"What are the tickets for?" I asked.

"They're for Bon Jovi. They're playing at Madison Square Garden tonight, and Mr. Sullivan and I thought that as a special treat, we'd take you and Luke."

Whoa! Madison Square Garden! This was a special present, all right! I didn't even care that I'd never heard of these guys before! Just the fact that we were going to the Garden was enough for me. Now that I think about it, I guess you could say that this started my love-affair with old-school hard-rock.

"Wow, thanks!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms aroudn Steve. "Thanks a lot!"

"You bet," Steve grinned. After a quick safety-talk from Mum, we went out the door to pick up Luke and his dad, and were soon on our way.

This was going to be the best birthday ever.

About forty-five minutes later, we arrived at the Garden, and after another five minutes, found a parking space. When we got out of the car, the first thing I noticed was that the crowd was really big, at least ten thousand people. The last time I can remember seeing that many people at once was at Kennedy Airport when Mum and I first arrived in New York. As for which crowd was bigger, I really don't know.

Well, we were able to make it inside, and even though we were nowhere near the stage, we still had good seats. They were right by one of the exits, in case Luke or I had to go to the bathroom. Which, of course, we both did.

"Now, remember to stay together," Steve said.

"We will," I said as I put Luke's hand on my shoulder and we headed to the bathrooms. I led Luke over to a urinal, and stepped into one of the stalls behind him.

I was just flushing the toilet when I heard Luke shouting, "Hey, stop it!"

Oh, no! Luke was in trouble! I rushed out of the stall and saw two older boys in Old Navy sweatshirts and jeans, and they were tormenting Luke. One had his cane, and the other had him in a full-nelson.

"Hey, leave him alone!" I yelled, running up and shoving the kid who had the cane.

"Did you just push me?" he asked, calmly but angrily. It was then that I realized how tall he was, at least a head taller than me. Even though I was intimidated, I wasn't about to show it.

"I said, _did...you...push...me?" _he repeated, his teeth clenched and his voice rising on every word.

"What if I did?"

"'What if I did?'" he said, imitating my accent. I knew that was going to happen, because anyone who's ever mde fun of me, that was always the first thing they did.

"Where did this yutz learn to talk?" the other kid snickered.

"Look, just give him back his cane, all right?"

"So, let me get this straight. You want _me _to give _him _back his cane, right?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, all right. All you had to do was ask." And with that, this jerk snapped the cane in half over his left knee and threw it down in front of Luke. "There's your cane, dork," he sneered.

That did it. In an instant, defying both logic and sanity, I ran up and kicked him right square in the crotch. His eyes popped wide open, all the wind left him, his face turned bright purple, and he collapsed in a heap. When I saw him sink to the floor, I was shocked, then a little surprised, that it actually worked.

That was until I saw the other kid's face, and he was furious. Snarling, he shoved Luke aside, charged up like a bull, and punched me in the stomach. I tried to grab his legs to trip him, but he grabbed me by the collar, slammed me against the wall, and slowly clenched his fist. "Time to say goodnight," he growled.

I thought for sure I was dead. I closed my eyes and waited for the blow, when all of a sudden, I heard another voice shout, "HEY!"

I opened my eyes, and there was Steve standing in the doorway. "Let him go!" he yelled. The kid very quickly did what Steve said, and I slumped to the floor. I guess seeing a 6' 4" Italian man with big muscles was more than enough to stop him from whatever he was about to do. Then Steve barked, "Now, beat it!"

After the kids rushed out of the bathroom, Steve helped me to my feet. "Are you guys okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," I answered, coughing.

"I'm all right," Luke added. That's when Steve noticed Luke's cane lying broken on the floor.

"That does it, we're getting security!" Steve snapped. He put an arm around each of us, and we walked out of the bathroom. As luck would have it, the first person we saw was a security guard who was on his way in. Steve turned to us and said, "I'm going to speak with that security guard we just passed. You two go directly back to Mr. Sullivan, okay?"

"Okay, Steve," Luke said as I put his hand on my shoulder again, and we made our way back to our seats.

"Hey, guys, you're just in time! The show's starting!" Mr. Sullivan said. Then he noticed Luke's missing cane. "Where's your cane, Luke?"

"These two guys jumped us in the bathroom," I answered, rubbing my stomach where I'd been hit. "One of them broke Luke's cane, so I kicked him..And then his friend hit me and was about to do more when Steve stopped him. Steve's talking to a security guard right now."

"Are you all right?" Mr. Sullivan asked anxiously.

Before Luke could answer his dad, the crowd's applause and cheering drowned him out, and the three of us turned our attention to the stage, even though we were about forty or fifty rows away. Luckily, one of the big astroscreens was nearby, so even though we couldn't see the band themselves, we'd still be able to see them on the monitor.

The concert was a blast. One song in particular I sort of remember is one that Jon Bon Jovi wrote himself called "August 7, 4:15". I'm told that he wrote it in response to the tragic, unexplained death of his manager's daughter in August of 1996, and it was featured on an episode of _Unsolved Mysteries _in June of 1998. They sang several others, but I don't remember them. All I know is, I was having the time of my life, enough to make me forget what happened in that bathroom. And let me tell you, up on that stage, the band looked like gods. It was a moment I'd remember and treasure forever.

After the concert, the four of us headed out to the car. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw those two boys being delivered to their parents by the security guard that Steve had talked to. One of them—the one who broke Luke's cane, that is—gave me a really evil look, a look that told me that the worst was yet to come.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

After that night at the concert, Steve decided it was time to teach me how to fight. I thought it was great, because I never wanted to be in a situation like that again. In fact, I overheard him talking about it with Mum after I'd gone to bed that night. Even though both of them have told me that it's not nice to eavesdrop, I could tell, from the tone of their voices, that they had different opinions about learning to fight.

"Look, Diann, I've lived on Long Island all my life," Steve was saying. "It's not exactly an easy place to live, and I had to learn to defend myself. I mean, don't you want Jason to be safe?"

"Of course I do, but this isn't the way to do it," Mum said. "He could get hurt, or hurt someone else."

"He already got hurt!" Steve protested. "You should've seen what was happening in that bathroom tonight. Those two kids roughed up Jason and Luke, and they would've done a lot worse if I hadn't stopped them."

For a moment, there was silence. I wasn't sure what was going to happen next, or if they were going to start tearing each other's heads off.

"Okay," Mum said calmly. "I still have some reservations, and I'm worried about Jason's safety. But I appreciate your looking out for him."

"Diann, honey, I promise to watch out for him. He's going to be all right," Steve said.

As I went back to sleep, I thought, _I knew he'd say that. _Little did I know what I was getting myself into.

That following Saturday, my self-defense training began. The first thing we did was go for a morning jog. It was freezing, windy, and the sun was barely up, but considering what I'd just been through, and the fact that Steve was willing to help me, it was well worth the lousy weather we were having.

"Now, Jason, the most important thing to remember here is endurance," Steve said as we jogged up the road. "And one of the best ways to keep it up is by jogging at least once a day."

"But what if it's raining, or the roads are icy?" I asked.

"If the roads are bad, then you're right, you shouldn't jog, except around the block. But only if there's no ice," Steve answered. "Now, depending on whether or not there's thunder and lightning, or how heavy the rain is, you can decide."

"Right," I said. I was glad I wouldn't have to jog in five feet of snow!

The next thing we did was go to the apartment complex's fitness center. While we were stretching, Steve explained that it was the most important thing, because if you didn't, you could pull a muscle, and that's really painful.

After we left the fitness center, we drove to the Y, where Steve was going to teach me self-defense. Fortunately, aerobics classes didn't start until 1:30, so we had the room to ourselves.

"The first thing I'm going to teach you is blocking and punching," he said. "Now, watch me very carefully here."

He put his left foot out in front of him, bent his knee a little, then raised both fists into a fighting stance. He looked like he was getting ready to clean house. Then, at lightning speed, he raised his left arm, and with his right, let loose with a punch. "H'YAH!"

I won't lie to you, I jumped two feet. I even think I saw the Italian flag tattoo on his right arm flash a little. That's how fired up he was.

Then Steve turned to me and said, "Now, you try it."

I positioned my feet the same way Steve did, raised both fists, then I did the same motion he did, only my yell wasn't quite as loud as his.

"Not bad," he said. "Just remember to keep your eyes on your opponent, and never tuck your thumb into your fist, because yo will break it."

"I'll remember," I promised. "Bu the way, where did you learn to do this?"

"I was about your age when I started learning," he answered. "My Uncle Ken had a black belt in karate, and was also a self-defense instructor during the Vietnam War, and he taught me everything he knew."

"Cool," I commented. "Is he still around?"

"I'm afraid not. He passed away sometime after Bebe's first birthday."

"I'll bet he was a great guy, wasn't he?"

"The best. One thing he told me was that I was a fast learner. And from what I just saw, I think you may be, too."

"Thanks," I grinned. I knew it would eventually come to good use.

Over the next few months, Steve and I continued to practice. Some of the other things he taught me were ways to duck and avoid being hit. I learned quite a lot from him. Also, I hope he doesn't mind me saying this, but I'm surprised he didn't teach me "wax on, wax off"!

That following summer, the five of us (Mum, Steve, Bebe, Luke, and I) went to the community pool. I was really looking forward to it, because ever since I'd started my self-defense training, I was getting some muscle, and the pool was a great place to show it off.

"Mum, Luke and I are going to get something to drink," I said. "Is that all right?"

"Sure, love," Mum said as she finished putting sunblock on Bebe and wiped the excess on her leg. Steve handed us a couple of dollars from his wallet.

"Can I have a drink, too, Jason?" Bebe asked, trying to sound pitiful. I should've known she'd do that, because every time Mum or Steve let me do something, she felt she had to as well.

"Now, Bebe, you know you already have something to drink," Mum told her, "and you know you're supposed to finish what you have."

"Okay, Diann," Bebe sighed. She knew perfectly well that when Mum starts talking like that, she means business.

"Now, remember to come straight back, yes?" Mum said to Luke and me.

"We will," I said, and the two of us headed to the snack bar. On the way, I noticed a few girls watching me and whispering to each other. I guessed they'd noticed how muscular I was getting, and it was pretty hard to hide how flattered I was.

On the way back, I expected the girls to follow us, but guess who we saw instead? Yup—those two kids from the concert. That was bad enough, but worst of all, the kid who was about to clobber me that night was the brother of one of the girls who was watching me.

"Well, if it isn't the little yutz again," he snickered. "So, first you turn my friend into a soprano, and now you're posing for my sister, huh?"

"What are you talking about?" I demanded. "I was just getting something to drink."

The kid knocked my drink to the ground. "So, drink it," he snapped.

"Hey, come on, Derek, cut it out!" his sister cried. That only made the kid even madder.

"You shut your trap, Autumn!" he snapped. "I'm sick of you following me around and telling me what to do, you hear me?"

All of my adrenaline kicked into high gear. I picked up the cup and threw what was left of my drink at him. Obviously, it wasn't a smart move, but that's no way to talk to a girl, especially if she's your sister.

Anyway, as soon as this creep felt the drink hit him, he slowly turned to face me, and he was shaking and red as a beet. I also saw a vein in the middle of his forehead, and from my eight-year-old perspective, it looked about a foot and a half long. "This time, you're really dead," he growled, clenching his fist. I knew what was coming, and I was ready this time. The kid swung at me, but remembering what Steve taught me, I blocked the blow and decked him right in the face. It all happened so fast, and I didn't expect to hurt him at all. But after I hit him, he stumbled backward with blood pouring from his nose. His eyes were rolling around in their sockets, and his mouth was hanging open. Then he fell over and crash-landed on his back.

I looked at my fist in amazement. I seriously couldn't believe what had just happened. Neither could anybody else. We stood there for a moment, just gawking at this kid lying there like a sack of dirty laundry, but when one of the other cashiers passed by, we all scattered.

Luke and I returned to Mum and Steve like we'd been told, and were hoping they hadn't seen what happened, because if they had, I'd be in big trouble. Luckily, Mum was in the pool with Bebe, and Steve was reading his copy of _Catcher in the Rye, _so I was safe for the moment.

At least I thought I was.

A little while later, a lifeguard came over to us. "Is there a problem?" Steve asked when he saw him.

"I'm afraid so," the lifeguard answered. "It has come to my attention that this boy has gotten into a fight."

"What happened?" Steve asked, concerned.

"Well, sir, I've heard from several eyewitnesses that he wasn't the one who started it, but if it's all right with you, I'd like to hear his side of the story."

Great. Just what I needed. I'm just glad there were _some _people on my side.

"Sure," I said. "See, my friend Luke and I were getting something to drink, and on our way back, these two kids tried to start trouble with us. The sister of one of them tried to help us out, but he yelled at her, so I threw my drink at him. He was about to clobber me, so I hit him first. Now, believe me, I didn't expect to hurt him at all. He just fell right over."

The lifeguard nodded. "I see," he said. "Well, I'd like to let you know that you're not in trouble this time; but in the future, it would be wise of you to keep your temper under control, and come to one of us if you have a problem like this again. Okay?"

I nodded. I was so relieved to hear that. I also hoped Mum wouldn't blame Steve for teaching me how to fight.

Oh, that reminds me. Recently, while I was baby-sitting for the Kuhns', their eight-year-old son, Jake, told me about coming to the aid of his six-year-old sister, Laurel, when she was being picked on during recess, and how the kid who was doing the bullying started in on him, namely calling him "Fatso", because Jake's just a little overweight. Well, that soon led to Jake and this other kid getting into a fight, and both of them having to stay after school for three days. I told Jake he'd done the right thing by standing up to this kid, but he also should've told a teacher and let them handle it.

I just wish that's what I would've done.


	8. Chapter 8: When I Was Ten

**CHAPTER 8: When I Was Ten**

_After what happened at the pool, I developed a reputation as the kind of kid nobody wanted to start a fight with. I was glad nobody picked on me anymore, but it was a double-edged sword. Granted, most of the kids who were bullies kept their distance, but at the same time, several of the teachers became worried that I'd become one of those kids, and that really upset me. Also, when Bebe started school, I knew I had to look out for her as much as possible. So now, instead of picking on me, they went directly to her. The stress from trying to protect my stepsister—and staying out of trouble at the same time—finally came to a head. This time, _I _was the one who would get hurt..._

One Thursday afternoon in early October, I was taking a shortcut through the schoolyard on my way to soccer practice hwen I heard a voice shout, "Hey, give that back, you jerk!"

That was Bebe! I looked to see what was going on, and there, by the fence, was a sixth-grader who looked like Eminem's flat-broke twin. He was holding Bebe's lunchbox high above his head. "Come and get it sweetheart," he smirked.

I ran up to the kid. "Hey, leave her alone!" I yelled, shoving him to the ground.

"What'll you do if I don't?" he retorted, imitating my accent. By now, my accent was _just starting _to fade. But I still wasn't going to stand for it.

"You don't want to find out," I warned, slowly clenching my fist.

_"Oooh, _I'm _soooo _scared," he said sarcastically. "What are you going to do, put me in time-out?"

Taking another step forward, I got right in his face and pointed my thumb in Bebe's direction. "You've got exactly three seconds to give her back her lunchbox before I knock your bloody teeth down your throat," I snarled.

"You and how many of your friends?"

"Just me. Two hits: me hitting you, you hitting the ground. Any time you're ready."

I was definitely ready. The adrenaline was really pumping. I was going to beat this kid to a pulp. All it took was for one of us to say the wrong thing. Sure enough, this kid called Mum a really filthy name, which I'm not going to repeat. It was bad enough that he'd called her that, but anyone who dared to say it would be struck by lightning.

Anyway, as soon as that name came out of him, all my blood rushed to my fist, and I slugged him in the jaw. He stumbled backward, dropping the lucnhbox, and fell against the tetherball pole. Just as I bent over to pick it up, he tacked me. The fight was on.

We wrestled on the ground, punching, kicking, hair-pulling, and cursing up a storm. I blackened his eye, and he busted my lip open. I judo-flipped him off me, and he kicked me in the chest. It was a pretty serious fight.

"Yeah, Jason go for it!" Bebe shouted. That really made the kid mad, so after he kicked me, he stormed over to Bebe, grabbed her by the collar, and was about to hit her when she kicked him in the shins. As soon as he let her go, I grabbed him and threw him against the dustbins.

"You don't feel like such a tough guy now, do you?" I shouted, walking over to him. That's when I saw him reach behind one of the spilled garbage bags. When he stood up, I saw that he was holding a two-by-four. He swung and missed three times. The fourth time, however, he hit my left knee. I can still hear the sound of that board smashing against my knee, as well as Bebe's horrified scream when it hit me in the face.

WHAM! The impact sent me staggering four feet across the pavement and stopping beside the bike rack. I didn't hear the kid drop the board and run off, or Bebe screaming for help, because my ears were ringing too much. I did, however, feel a wet trickle down the right side of my face. I put my hand on the spot, and gasped when I saw how much blood there was. It covered all my fingers and was running steadily to the center of my palm.

The rest of that day is a blur. I don't remember Bebe or one of my teachers checking on me, or Mum being called. All I remember is looking out the corner of my eye and seeing a little tiny nail sticking out of the board. I tried to stand up, but I was so dizzy from getting hit that just getting on my hands and knees was a chore. My teacher grabbed me in an effort to steady me so she could look at my face, and that's when I blacked out.

The next thing I felt was a cool dampness on my face. I opened my eyes, and found myself staring at white light. _What's this? _I thought. _I'm not dead, am I? Is this what heaven looks like?_

"Oh, my God," I moaned, and not just because I was so disoriented. My face, as well as my bottom lip, were so sore. My face hurt a lot worse, because of how hard I'd been hit.

"It's all right," a soothing voice with a heavy Brooklyn accent was saying. "We're taking good care of you."

When my head cleared, I saw a silver-haired nurse standing over me, gently patting my face with a wet washcloth. I also found myself lying on a table with a paper sheet on it, a plastic bracelet around my left wrist, and no shirt on. I turned my head from side to side—which wasn't easy, due to the bandage on my face—and got a good look at my surroundings: a spotlessly white room with bottles and bags on the shelves, and a pole beside me. Hanging from the top of the pole was a bag of fluid attached to a thin, clear line, which was connected to my left arm by a needle.

Then it hit me: I was in the hospital. I looked at the nurse to ask her a question, but she was too busy putting the washcloth in the basin of water she'd been using. That's when panic started to set in.

"Mum? Mum?" I whispered, getitng more and more frantic. My voice may have sounded weak, but by now, it was getting louder. I don't know why, but my first instinct was to jump off the table and run for it. I tried to get up, but I'd forgotten about my knee. In less than a minute, I felt a sharp pain shoot up my left leg from the middle of my shin to my kneecap. It felt like a whole nest of yellowjackets stinging me. That was all it took for my voice to come back, loud and clear.

"AAAH, BLOODY HELL!" I screamed throuch clenched teeth, clutching my knee. I knew I'd cursed in front of an adult, and that wasn't allowed, but I didn't care. The pain was excruciating.

The nurse grabbed my shoulders. "Shh, it's okay, sweetie," she said. "You're safe now. Everything's going to be all right." I guess she knew how much pain I was in, because she never bothered to tell me to watch my language.

I started to calm down, but I was still a little confused about how I'd gotten there or what was going on. "What's this needle in my arm?" I asked.

"This is an IV. It's to keep your injury from getting infected."

"What?"

"The nail that was in that board was probably dirty, and this IV is preventing you from getting sick," the nurse explained.

It all started coming back to me. The fight. The kid grabbing the board and hitting me with it. Bebe's screams for help. I was pretty shaken up by all this. "Where's my mum?" I asked.

"I'll get her for you," the nurse said, patting my shoulder. "Right now, the doctor would like to see you."

The nurse emptied the basin of water into the sink, hung the damp cloth up to dry, and left the room. A few minutes later, Dr. Combs came in. He basically looks the same way Erik Palladino probably will in about ten years, except that he has gold-rimmed glasses.

"Hi, Jason," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," I confessed.

Dr. Combs nodded, then took his stethoscope out of his pocket and put it on. "Just relax and breathe normally for me," he said. When he put the stethoscope on my chest, just as I'd expected, it was ice-cold. I think it's a requirement for all doctors to have a freezer full of those ends. When I reacted to the cold, he blew on it and tried again. I wonder if they teach you that in med school?

After he finished, he hung the stethoscope across the back of his neck. "Well, you're one lucky young man," he said. "As high as that nail was when it hit you, another inch and you would've lost your eye."

Upon hearing that, the color just drained from my face. The idea of spending the rest of my life with only one eye really scared me half to death. At the same time, I was relieved to know how lucky I was that day. "Thanks," I managed to say. Then the door opened, and Mum came in just as the doctor was stepping out.

"Hi, baby," she said. Tears started to fill my eyes as she approached me. I felt like I was three years old again.

"Mum," I sobbed. She helped me sit up and wrapped me in a hug. I wept in her arms for a minute. Not only was I upset about getting hurt, but also, it was how horribly the other kids had been treating me just because I had an accent. Why couldn't anyone see past that?

"Shh, it's all right," she said gently. "Jason? Jason, look at me, please." I couldn't move much because of the IV, so she helped me lie back down. "It's just a few stitches, love," she said, stroking my left cheek. "And it didn't cut your eye or break your cheekbone. You were _very _lucky." She took a tissue out of her purse and wiped my eyes.

By then, the nurse was returning with a cart. "Excuse me, Mrs. Everett," she said, "but I need to draw some blood."

What? More blood? Didn't I lose enough already? Without saying a word, Mum turned my face toward hers. The nurse had me make a fist with my right hand, so she could put the needle in. When it did, I didn't even flinch. Go figure!

"That's my brave lad," Mum whispered.

"All done!" the nurse said, putting a cotton ball and Band-Aid on the spot.

While the nurse disconnected the IV, I asked, "Where are Steve and Bebe?"

"They went home," she answered. "And don't worry about Bebe. She's fine."

A few minutes later, Dr. Combs came in. "Well, you can go home, too," he said. "Stay home from school until Tuesday, but come back that afternoon to have your stitches out."

"Thank you," Mum said.

Mum helped me put my shirt and jacket on, then handed me my shoes. I'd just finished tying them when the nurse returned with a wheelchair. "How about a special ride to your car?" she asked. I shrugged, and she and Mum helped me into the chair.

When we got out to the parking garage, instead of waiting for Mum to bring the car down, the nurse, being the genius that she is, started to follow her up the ramp. I thought for sure that I was going to fall out of the chair, so I gripped the armrests as tightly as possible.

By the time we got up the ramp, Mum was waiting with the car. She opened the back passenger door, then she and the nurse helped me out of the chair, and laid me down on the backseat. I fell asleep on the way home, wondering what was going to happen next.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

That evening while I was in the shower, I happened to look down and see a large bruise on my left knee, in the exact spot where I'd been hit. It covered the entire knee, as well as small part of my calf. I knew the board had done _some _damage, but until I saw the size of that bruise, I didn't know how much.

After changing into my boxers and Islanders T-shirt, I sat on my bed, trying to get the day's events out of my head. I was so bitter and angry with a lot of people, namely the kid who hit me with the board, as well as whoever left it lying there—with a nail in it, mind you. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, so I picked up one of my Doc Martens and threw it against the wall.

Just then, I heard a knock on the door. Thinking it was either Mum or Steve, I shouted, "Go away!"

"It's Bebe," the voice on the other side said.

"Come in," I said calmly, picking up the boot and putting it back in its place.

Bebe entered the room. "Are you all right, Jason?" she asked.

"Oh, I'll live," I reassured her. "It'll take a lot more than a busted knee and a board to the face to slow your big brother down."

Bebe giggled, then said solemnly, "I just wanted to say thank you for helping me today."

I felt tears coming to my eyes, but I brushed them away. I'd done enough crying for one day. "No problem," I said. "I'd do it again if I had the chance."

Bebe crossed the room and sat next to me on the bed. "Does it still hurt?" she asked.

"A little," I answered. "I just have to take that medicine the doctor gave me, so it won't hurt so much."

"You know what, Jason? I think you're really brave."

I won't lie to you, I was so touched when she said that. "Thanks, Sis," I grinned softly. She scooted closer to me and gave me a hug. That's when I knew that everything was going to be all right.

Well, almost everything.

The following Tuesday, my knee was still a little sore, but I had to return to school. "Welcome back, Jason," my teacher, Mr. Riley, said. "Oh, by the way, the principal would like to see you." While this was going on, I could sense the other kids staring at me, and I knew why. It was because of the bandage on my face. It was almost as if the bandage were a neon sign saying, "INSERT NAIL ON A BOARD HERE".

The whole time, I just wanted to shout at the top of my lungs, "What, you never saw a guy who almost had his eye ripped out before?" It was so bloody humiliating.

When I arrived at the principal's office, I told the secretary, Mrs. Grant, "I'm, um, supposed to see the principal."

"I'll let her know you're here," she said, pressing the intercom button. "Mrs. O'Shea? Jason Everett is here to see you."

"Send him in."

"Thank you." Then she turned to me and said, "Go on in."

I limped into Mrs. O'Shea's office, my hands shaking uncontrollably the whole time. "Um, Mrs. O'Shea?"

"Have a seat, please," she said calmly. "By the way, how's your face?"

"Fine, thanks," I answered as I sat down, grimacing in pain the whole time. When I looked to my left, I saw the kid I'd fought with, and boy, did he glare at me.

I kid you not.

I'm the one who almost loses an eye just for trying to help my sister, and somehow, he thinks it's my fault.

"Now, Jason," Mrs. O'Shea began. "I've just spent ten minutes talking to Chad (I don't even remember if that was his real name) about what happened, and the reason I called you in here was so I could hear your side of the story."

"Sure," I said. "Well, I was on my way to soccer practice when I saw Chad here picking on Bebe. I ran up and told him to leave her alone, then he not only made fun of my accent, but he also called my mum a really filthy name, so I hit him in the jaw. We started fighting, then he started in on Bebe. She kicked him, then we fought some more, and that's when he grabbed the board and hit me with it."

"That must have hurt, huh?"

_No, I thought it felt just peachy, _I thought, but instead, I just nodded. The last thing I wanted was more trouble than I was sure I was already in.

"Okay," Mrs. O'Shea said, folding her hands on her desk. "I've already given this a lot of thought, and before I tell you what your punishment is, I'd just like to say that I'm sorry you got hurt, Jason, and nobody deserves to be hurt that way. Furthermore, I've already spoken to Bebe, and she told me that Chad was the instigator and you were trying to help her. Anyway, I've decided that both of you are to stay 45 minutes after school for the rest of the week. And yes, I've already spoken to your mothers about it. They weren't too happy, but they agreed."

"Um, I hate to bring this up, but I'm supposed to have my stitches out today," I told her. On the one hand, I knew I had to keep that appointment, but I was mostly trying to get her to cut me some slack.

Which, of course, she didn't.

"Don't worry, Jason," she said. "Your doctor called to remind me, and said he'd move you to a later time today."

Great. So much for my afternoon of freedom. Didn't anyone know or care that I was the one with the torn-up face? Also, what kind of bloody idiot leaves a board lying around with a nail in it? I mean, when you think about it, there's stupid, there's irresponsible, and there's this. To tell you the truth, I just wanted to jump up and tear that office apart. But once again, I just nodded.

"Okay," Mrs. O'Shea said. "You can go back to class now."

On our way out of the office, Chad whispered threateningly to me, "Watch your back."

Detention sucks, especially if you're not the one who started the trouble. The only good thing about it was the fact that Mrs. O'Shea had the presence of mind to keep Chad and me apart, so while I was in the schoolyard picking up trash, Chad was in the detention room doing homework. We were to alternate each day, and even though I hated every second of it, I suppose it was better than both of us being together. But still, I couldn't stand that wanker.

After I finished working, Steve picked me up, after dropping Bebe off at her tumbling class at the Y, and we went to the hospital. Neither of us said a word: me, because I was still brooding about my punishment; and Steve, because he felt responsible for the fight and my getting hurt. It wasn't his fault, of course, it was Chad's, and in retrospect, partly my own, but at the time, I was too stubborn to admit it.

Anyway, we got to the hospital, and Dr. Combs very carefully removed the stitches. As if getting hit with that board wasn't painful enough! Thankfully, it didn't last long.

"Now, Jason, I have to let you know that you're going to have a scar," Dr. Combs said as he removed the last stitch, "and it'll most likely hurt for a day or two, but after that, you should be as good as new."

I looked in a nearby mirror. On the right side of my face, in the exact spot where I'd been hit, was a jagged little scar about half an inch long. Now, anyone else in that kind of position would've been horror-stricken, but for some reason, I didn't feel that way at all. In fact, I thought it looked pretty cool.

On the way home, I couldn't stop looking at my scar in the rear-view mirror. Along with my still-developing muscles and long hair, I thought it made me look tough.

"You know, Jason, if you keep looking at that, it might come to life and spread all over your face," Steve said.

I shook my head and laughed. Steve can make anyone do that, and this was one of those times I could use a good one.

When we got home, we went upstairs to the apartment, and the first thing we saw was Mum sitting on the kitchen floor with her back to the icebox and her face in her hands. Obviously crying.

"Mum?" I asked worriedly. "Mum, what is it?"

"Diann? What happened, baby?" Steve added as he knelt beside her.

Mum raised her head. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her make-up was a smeared and runny mess. "Your Uncle Joe called about ten minutes ago," she answered. (Uncle Joe is Mum's brother.) "Jason, Granny has bone cancer."

In that moment, everything went into slow motion. My brain was struggling to comprehend what Mum had just said. My whole body went completely numb. I knew Mum was still talking to me, because I could see her lips moving, but I felt like my ears were stuffed with cotton. My stomach went back and forth between feeling like a huge chunk of ice to being seconds away from jumping out of me.

When I could finally move, I ran to the bathroom and threw up all over the toilet.


	10. Chapter 10: Return to Scotland

**CHAPTER 10: Return to Scotland**

_ The next few months seemed to go on forever. Mum, Aunt Amy, Alex, and I went to Scotland for the holidays to see Granny. I can still see this loving, sweet, caring woman lying in a hospital bed and hooked up to all these machines, her once-gentle dark-blue eyes now swollen shut, her once-healthy and robust body now deteriorating and immobilized by morphine, Dilaudid, and God knows what else. That's one image that I know will never leave me. Finally, just two weeks before St. Patrick's Day, the doctor made the painful, but inevitable decision to take her off life support. As soon as we were notified, Uncle Aaron and Aunt Amy booked a flight to Scotland for all of us..._

None of us said a word, or slept, during the flight. Mum was either staring into space or crying nonstop, Steve spent most of the flight consoling her, Bebe looked out the window for much of the flight, but I mostly looked down at my right hand.

On my index finger was a ring with a black cross on it, which I'd gotten for my birthday last month. It had been Granny's sweet sixteen present, and she'd left it to me in her will. Just the fact that she wanted me to have it meant so much to me.

By the way, I should also mention that Uncle Aaron, Aunt Amy, and their girls—Alex, who's Bebe's age, and Alissa, who was only two—went with us. They sat in first class, and we sat in coach.

We arrived at Heathrow Airport in London, which was where we were going to change planes and continue our trip to Glasgow. It was a little strange to be in the same airport where Diana Ross punched out a security guard that she claimed felt her up during a routine search, but I couldn't really think about that now. We had a plane to catch.

When we got off the plane in Glasgow, we were met by Uncle Joe, Aunt Sarah, and their four boys: Paul, who's my age (I'm only about three months younger than him, though); Mark and Matt, the twins, who are two years younger than me; and John, who's a year younger than Bebe. I hadn't seen them in a while, but I still remembered what they looked like. They all resemble Mum, Granny, Aunt Amy, or me in some ways, mostly the eye color, because blue or green eyes run in Mum's side of the family. Their hair color, by the way, is different. Uncle Joe and Paul have brown hair, Aunt Sarah and the twins are blond, and John has red hair. Anyway, they looked glad to see us.

"It's so good to see you all again," Uncle Joe said as he hugged Mum and Aunt Amy. I could tell that he was struggling to keep his voice steady. The boys, on the other hand, were all crying. "Also, I've been given the task of informing you that they disconnected Mum late last night, and she died about a couple of hours ago."

The tears just spilled down Mum's face. She and Aunt Amy wept in their husbands' arms. Alex and Bebe held each other and sobbed, and Alissa was looking around, confused by all this emotion. I put my arms around the girls and hugged them.

"I'm sorry," Aunt Sarah said. "I know you wanted to see her one last time, but she was just suffering too much."

Mum nodded and sniffled, and our group walked out of the airport. It was the longest walk of my life.

Granny's memorial service was two days later. I can quite honestly say that there wasn't a dry eye in that entire church. I sat between Mum and Bebe in the center of the fourth pew. The whole time, Bebe clung to my arm and sobbed into my shoulder. I hadn't seen her this upset since she fell off the swings and skinned her knee last spring.

Mum's cousin—my first cousin once removed—Father Glenn Mosley, a pastor and youth leader in Edinburgh, gave the eulogy. "We'll miss your laugh, your smile, your sense of humor, but most of all, we'll miss your heart of gold," he said, blinking back tears. "I'm sure you're in a better place now, and we can take great comfort in knowing that." He swallowed, then ended with the words, "So long for now, my dear Aunt Ruth. We'll see you in heaven. We promise."

After the eulogy, Father Glenn picked up the urn that contained Granny's ashes, and led the mourners out of the church.

About an hour and a half later, we arrived at the Firth of Clyde. It was a gray, cold, drizzly day, and the fact that a majority of the men, including myself, were wearing kilts didn't make standing out there a pleasant experience. Despite the dreary weather we were having, even I had to admit that the Firth was absolutely breathtaking.

While Father Glenn read the interment speech, Mum and Aunt Amy spread Granny's ashes over the lake. As I watched what was left of my beloved Granny being scattered across that freezing cold water, I remembered a story she'd once told me about how she and her grandfather used to come there every summer when she was a kid. I thought it was very appropriate that she was being laid to rest here, of all places.

The last thing to happen was that Uncle Joe played "Amazing Grace" on the bagpipes. The tears just spilled down my face as he played. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard, and I just knew that Granny was up in heaven, looking down on us, and smiling that beautiful smile of hers.

The visitation took place at Granny's, where Mum and I had lived until I was four. I spent most of the time in my old room, looking out the window at the rain. Being in that house again reminded me of when I was little, as well as the day that Mum announced that she and I were moving to America. I felt like everything was being taken away from me all over again.

"Are you all right, Jason?" a voice asked. I turned and saw John. He was looking at me like he knew I needed company.

"Aye," I said softly, patting the seat beside me on the bed. He sat down, and I put my arms around him. We sat and talked, watched the rain, comforted each other, and shared memories of Granny, until Uncle Joe came and told John that it was time to go home. He gave me a hug, then followed his dad out the door.

I had a lot of trouble falling asleep that night. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get my mind off the fact that Granny was gone, I just couldn't. _It's just not fair, _I thought. _I can't believe I'll never see her again. Why did she have to die so soon? _Finally, I got out of bed and went to the kitchen to make myself some cocoa.

While I waited for the water to boil, I sat on the floor near the dishwasher with my head on my knees and my arms wrapped around my legs as I cried. Just then, I started to get the feeling that I wasn't alone. I slowly looked to my left and saw a man sitting beside me. He was wearing a navy blue Scottish Army uniform. When I got a good look at his face, I noticed that he looked an awful lot like me, right down to the peaked eyebrows. The only difference was, his eyes were brown.

I immediately jumped back in alarm. Where did this guy come from?

"Whoa, easy there, Jason," he said. "It's all right."

And how did he know my name? What was going on here? "Who are you?" I managed to say, once I'd gotten my breath back.

"You mean to say that you don't recognize your old man?" he asked, pointing to a little gold-plated name tag on his left breast pocket. I took a closer look at it, and saw the insignia: D. CROWE.

"Holy Mother of God," I whispered. Then I watched as my hands shakily took the ID tags out from under my shirt. I looked at them, then at his jacket again. "Dad...?"

"Aye, it's me, son," Dad answered. "I knew it was you right away, because you look the same way I did when I was your age, except you have your mum's eyes."

I reached for his hand. I wanted to know if what I was seeing was real, but my hand went right through his. "How can you be here?" I wondered. "Mum told me you were dead." After what I'd just been through, and with what I was facing now, I thought I was really losing my mind.

"I realize that I'm scaring you, Jason, and I'm sorry," Dad told me. "But I had to come."

"Why?"

"I heard about your granny," Dad said. "Also, I wanted to see you for myself. Every day, I wish I'd lived long enough to see you be born. In fact, I still remember seeing you being born from above. The nurse said that you were one healthy lad, and from what I'm seeing now, she was right."

I was speechless. Here I was, sitting on the floor, talking to a man I'd only seen pictures of, and here he was. When I was able to speak again, I said, "So, am I dreaming now, or what?"

My father laughed gently. "No, I'm afraid not," he smiled. Then he noticed the scar on my face. "What happened to you?"

"I got this in a fight at school a few months ago," I answered. "The other kid hit me in the face with a board that had a nail in it. Almost tore my eye out, too."

"Well, like father, like son," Dad commented. "I had a bit of a short fuse when I was a kid, and I got sent to reform school because of it. You know, it's so ironic that my temper's what made me go into the military, wouldn't you say?"

"Really?"

Dad nodded, and scratched the back of his head. "I'm just glad I was able to do something constructive with my life before they shot me down." Then he changed the subject. "So, I hear that your mum got remarried. Is he a nice guy?"

"Steve?" I said. "Oh, absolutely. He taught me self-defense, and it's come to great use over the years."

"I can tell by that little badge of honor you've got there," Dad grinned, pointing to my face. I had to grin, too, in spite of myself.

"Well, the water's boiling," I said as we got up. "I was just getting ready to have some cocoa. Care for some?"

"Well, I'd love to, but I'm afraid I have to be getting back now," Dad answered. "You see, after your granny's service, they sent me down here to get her. It's a good thing they spread her ashes at the Firth of Clyde. I still remember when your mum and I had picnics there during our courtship."

"Really?" I asked. Mum never told me that.

Dad nodded. "Nobody could make haggis like she could," he said. "I can still smell it. In fact, that's practically the only thing that was served at our army base that was any good. Of course, it was nothing like your mum's."

"Yeah, she always made good haggis," I agreed. "So did Granny."

"Well, I should really be going now," Dad said at last. "Tell your mum I'll always love her, and I'll see both of you in heaven someday."

"Thanks, Dad," I said, my voice breaking. "I love you."

"I love you, too, my son," Dad said. Then he turned and walked away, vanishing into the darkness.

As I carried my cocoa into the living room and sat on the end of the couch, like I did when I was little, a million thoughts went through my head. I'd sometimes heard stories of people getting visits from dead friends and relatives, but until now, I never believed them. It was nice to finally meet my dad, even if it was just for a few minutes.


	11. Chapter 11: Moving to Stoneybrook

**CHAPTER 11: Moving to Stoneybrook**

_ Over the next three and a half years, life at school just kept getting worse and worse, and I was getting exhausted from trying to protect both myself and Bebe. Sometime after I'd gotten my stitches out, we'd filed a lawsuit against the school for their negligence in preventing me from getting hurt. Sure, we didn't win a whole lot of money, but at least they took the students' safety more seriously. At any rate, it soon proved to be the last straw for us. Shortly after I started eighth grade, Mum and Steve had some big news for us..._

One Thursday evening in late September, the four of us were sitting around the dining room table. Mum and Steve didn't feel like cooking, so we ordered a couple of pizzas. By the way, if you ever order pizza for my family, the two toppings you should never order are olives, because Bebe's allergic to them, and banana peppers, because they give Mum heartburn.

Anyway, we were all eating when Steve stood up, cleared his throat, and said, "I have an important announcement." We all stopped eating, looked up at him, and he continued, "Earlier this afternoon, I was offered a job as the superintendent of a brand-new apartment complex."

"That's great, Daddy!" Bebe said.

I'd already heard this speech twice in my life: once when we were coming to America, and once when we'd found that flat in Manhattan. I was already used to it, and as it turned out, I didn't have to ask where it was, because Mum beat me to it: "So, where is it?"

"It's in this little town in Connecticut called Stoneybrook," Steve answered, "which is just a half-hour drive from Stamford."

When I heard this, I was just over the moon. It meant that I could make a fresh start, and believe me, I was so sick of Long Island, the other kids giving me their crap about my accent and my scar—well, my accent, mostly—and worrying about Bebe's safety. This was the best news I'd heard in years.

"I think it's great," I said. And you'd better believe I meant it. "I have to call Luke and tell him."

"Sure, go ahead," Mum said, helping herself to a breadstick.

"Tell him we're leaving next Wednesday," Steve called as I put my plate in the sink and headed to the living room.

I called Luke with the news. To my surprise, he took it really well. "We should get together after school tomorrow," he said.

"Sure," I said. "Steve says we're not leaving until next Wednesday, anyway."

I was really going to miss Luke, but at the same time, I was happy to be leaving Long Island. Either way, I hoped the next Wednesday would hurry up and come.

Well, Wednesday _finally _came. I was in my room, folding up my KISS and MC5 posters, and putting them in my backpack, when Bebe came in. "Hey, Jason, did you hear?" she asked. "We're moving."

"Yeah, I know," I said. Didn't we just talk about that?

"No, I mean _everyone's _moving," she said. "Everyone in the whole building. It's going to be torn down."

"What? When?"

"As soon as everyone moves out," she answered. "They have until the end of the month."

This was something of a surprise. I knew _we _were moving, but I thought it was just us. My first clue should've been when we noticed the walls in the hallway starting to collapse, not to mention the floor boards creaking. Then there was the time Mrs. Ortega from down the hall was opening her front door. It fell off its hinges and almost clonked her on the head, not to mention the ceiling from the upstairs apartment falling on her coffee table. I assumed that she wasn't exactly thrilled to see a total stranger reading a copy of _Penthouse _in her living room. I even heard that she'd doused that entire room with holy water.

When the last of our belongings had been packed up in the moving van, we took one last walk through our empty apartment, then we got in the SUV. "Let's blow this joint," I said. I couldn't be happier to get out of there.

As we drove toward Connecticut, "The Joker" by the Steve Miller Band was playing on the radio, and we were singing along. Now, I know that most parents would be offended by the chorus, which goes, _"I'm a joker, I'm a smoker, I'm a midnight toker," _but Mum and Steve seemed to be all right with it.

After the song ended, Mum told us about where we'd be going to school. "Now, Jason, you'll be at Stoneybrook Middle School, and Bebe, you'll be at Stoneybrook Elementary. Both schools are on the bus route, and you'll each ride a separate bus to school."

"Okay," I said. I hadn't ridden the bus to school since before Mum and Steve were married. After that, one of them took me until I got my motor scooter. Since then, they've only driven me in bad weather.

A little while later, I saw the road sign for Stoneybrook, and became very excited. I'm sure everyone else felt the same way. "Stoneybrook—5 miles," I said to myself.

I wondered what the town was like, and hoped things would be better there.

When we finally pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex, I saw two or three other families from our building on Long Island, so it didn't completely feel like "Anatevka", if you know what I mean.

When we got inside, Steve and I showed the movers where to put our furniture. One of the things we did was make sure that the TV wasn't in a spot where sunlight would hit it. We'd had that problem on Long Island, and we had to keep the drapes shut all year long just so we could watch TV.

For my room, I kept the furniture arrangement the same as my room on Long Island: my bed in a corner by the window, my dresser beside the closet, my beanbag chair at the foot of my bed, and my stereo on the dresser. As I unpacked my backpack and put my posters up on the walls, I looked around the room. I decided that Stoneybrook was a town I could live in and make my fresh start.

Or so I hoped.


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12**

The next morning, I woke up early to get ready for my first day at SMS. I put on my black long-sleeved Def Leppard T-shirt and jeans, then my black boots and went to the kitchen for breakfast. I guess I was still a little groggy because the next thing I heard was a high-pitched whistling. That woke me right away, and when I looked around, I saw Mum boiling water in the brass tea kettle that's been in our family for years. In fact, Granny had left it to her in her will.

"Good morning, son," Mum smiled as I sat down at the kitchen table and reached for a blueberry muffin. She turned off the stove and poured the water into the cups—instant coffee for her, and green tea for me. "Are you ready for your first day at your new school?"

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be, I guess," I answered. "Hopefully, the other kids will be nicer."

"I'm sure they will be, once they get to know you," Mum said, handing me my tea. "You know, it's like I always say, if you don't learn to try new things, you'll never know what you're missing out on."

"Thanks, Mum."

Just then, Bebe came into the kitchen. "Hi, Jason," she grinned, sitting down across from me and also reaching for a blueberry muffin. "Don't forget that you promised to give me a ride to school today."

"Right," I said. In the back of my mind, I hoped nobody would give us a hard time.

"Have fun," Mum said as we got ready to head out the door.

"We will," Bebe said.

_God, I hope so, _I thought.

When I arrived at SMS, I parked my motor scooter next to the bike rack and chained it up. "Well, here goes," I whispered as I headed to the front entrance of the school. For a small-town school, it was pretty crowded. I had a little trouble finding the office when I got inside, though.

"Can I help you?" a girl's voice asked. She was about a head shorter than me, and had dark brown hair in a bowlcut, and was wearing a yellow short-sleeved blouse with brown polka dots and dark blue jeans with yellow Chuck Taylor high-tops.

"I'm new here, and I can't seem to find the office," I explained.

"Oh," she said. "Follow me." She led me to the office door.

"Thanks," I answered.

"No problem," she answered, then went on her way.

The office wasn't too busy, mostly teachers going in and out. Call me crazy, but I almost expected to hear one of them asking how many days there were until Christmas vacation. I kind of wondered that, too, but I had more important things to worry about.

"Can I help you?" the secretary asked.

"Maybe. I'm Jason Everett, and this is my first day here. I'm not exactly sure where I'm supposed to be."

"Oh. Welcome to Stoneybrook Middle School. I'm Mrs. Downey, the school secretary. We've been expecting you," she said, handing me a schedule. "Here's your schedule for the year. Oh, and you'll need to see the principal to get registered. His office is right around the corner there."

"Thanks," I said, and walked from one office to the other. After giving my registration card to the principal, and basically getting familiar with how things worked, I made my way down the hall.

My first stop was at my new locker, which was actually in pretty good shape. I hung my jacket up, and put Granny's picture on the shelf. "Wish me luck, Granny," I said as I shut the door. I had a feeling that I'd need it.

After I left my locker, I headed to homeroom. I found a seat in the second row, so I sat down and looked around at all the other kids coming in. Two girls in particular caught my eye. One was short with straight brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, like mine was, and was wearing a pink turtleneck, blue denim overalls, and running shoes. The other girl was a few inches taller, Asian, and had _loooong _jet-black hair that was pulled back like Qui-Gon Jinn. She was also wearing a white puffy shirt, like the one on that particular episode of _Seinfeld—_except it was covered with rhinestones—black fishnet tights, a gray pleated skirt, and ox-blood Doc Martens with yellow laces. I liked them immediately. The brown-haired girl was kind of cute, but the Asian girl was a real looker!

Anyway, I waved to them. I guess I have some kind of effect on people, because the taller girl's jaw nearly fell off her face. "Hi," I said casually. Both of them came right over.

"Hi," the brown-hair girl said. "You're new here, right?"

I nodded. "My name's Jason Everett. We just moved here yesterday from Long Island."

"Are you _sure _that's where you're from?" the Asian girl asked. She was apparently drawn to my accent.

"Well, actually, I'm originally from Scotland. I moved here with my mum when I was four."

"Really?" the Asian girl asked. "By the way, I'm Claudia Kishi, and this is Kristy Thomas."

"Nice to meet you," I said, shaking their hands.

"Didn't I see you heading to Stoneybrook Elementary this morning?" Claudia asked.

"Mm-hm," I answered. "My stepsister goes there. She's in fifth grade."

"Oh, that was nice of you to give her a ride," Kristy said. "Oh, you know those new apartments at the end of McLelland Road?"

I nodded. "My stepdad's the new superintendent over there," I told them. That's when the bell rang, and my first day at SMS was soon underway.

So far, I had a pretty good feeling about this.

Lunchtime soon rolled around, and I sure was glad I'd brought mine from home, because the cafeteria food was even less identifiable than on Long Island. If the other kids wanted to call me a wuss—well, be my guest. Just don't come crying to me if you get sick.

I'd just gotten a Diet 7-Up from the vending machine, and was looking for a place to sit, when Claudia waved me over to where she was sitting.

"Hi, again," I said as I sat down. Beside me was another girl with the darkest, curliest hair I'd ever seen. Across from her was a blonde that could've easily passed for eighteen, and across from me was another blonde, and she was eating a tofu burger. Something about the first blonde looked vaguely familiar.

Kristy soon joined us. "Well, I see that you've met the Baby-sitters Club," she commented, setting her tray down beside the dark curly-haired girl. "By the way, that was a smart move, bringing your lunch. Otherwise-" And she started humming the _People's Court _theme.

"That bad, huh?" I guessed.

"Oh, you don't know the half of it," the tofu-burger blonde said.

"46—_point—_15192304...2304..." the dark curly-haired girl said, erupting into giggles, which proved to be contagious.

"You bet," Kristy said. "Okay, this is where I introduce everybody, and tell you more about us. You already know me and Claudia. The blond bombshell to my left is Stacey McGill, our treasurer. The girl with the bowlcut who's coming our way is our secretary, Mary Anne Spier." I turned around to see the girl who had helped me find the office that morning. "The girl who thinks she's Rain Man is Abby Stevenson, and the tofu-burger girl is Dawn Schafer. They're our alternate officers. And the brown-haired guy sititng with that bunch of yahoos down there is Logan Bruno. But don't worry. He's reasonably human."

"Well, I should hope so!" the bowlcut girl laughed, setting her tray down between Kristy and Stacey. Then she saw me. "Aren't you the guy I helped find the office this morning?"

"Aye," I answered. "Is it always that busy?"

"Only in the mornings," she answered. "And yes, in case you haven't figured it out, I'm Mary Anne."

"Aren't you in my math class?" I asked Stacey.

She nodded. "I was the one who could solve that one killer equation like _that," _she said, snapping her fingers.

"But didn't I see you somewhere else?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Well," I said thoughtfully, unwrapping my sandwich, "when my mum and I first moved into this flat in Manhattan, I was looking out my bedroom window at Central Park, and saw this guy crossing the street, carrying his little girl on his shoulders."

"My dad used to carry me on his shoulders when I was little."

"Did he carry you across Central Park West like that?"

Stacey's eyes widened. "That's right! I sort of remember looking up at this apartment building, and seeing this little boy looking back at me."

"I'll bet he looked like Damien from _The Omen, _right?"

"Yeah, a little." Then she dropped her fork into her salad. "That was _you?"_

"Yeah, it sure was."

Then I looked over at Abby, and saw that she looked like she was thinking really hard about something. "Is your stepdad Steve Everett?" she asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

"I thought so," she said. "My mom once told me about how he and my dad used to hang out together, and she also told me about that hiking trip across Canada they took after they graduated from high school."

"Really?" I asked. "Steve told me a story like that, too. In fact, he said that's how he met Bebe's mum."

Now it was Abby's turn for her eyes to widen. _"Bebe?" _she exclaimed. "I think I remember when she had her first birthday. Didn't she have cake all over her?"

"Didn't we all on our first birthday?" Claudia asked. "I know I did."

For a moment, nobody said a word. It was like we were all just letting this sink in. You know how it feels when you meet somebody when you're little and don't see them again until you're in your teens? That pretty much summed it up.

It was then Abby started singing "Small World" from _Gypsy, _making all of us cringe. Her voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard, even worse than Aunt Amy.

I was getting ready to do my Simon Cowell impression when I saw this tough-looking kid walk by. He looked like a reject from _The Outsiders. _"Well, now we know why there's noise pollution," he smirked.

"Aw, stuff a sock in it, T-Jam," Kristy shot back. (T-Jam? What kind of a name was that?)

"Who'll make me?" T-Jam asked. "Scarface here? And no, don't ask me to say hello to your little friend."

"You'd better get lost or I'm telling the principal," Dawn warned. That really got everyone's attention. She may have looked like a flower, but from her tone of voice just now, she sounded more like a prison guard.

"Oh, my, _my," _T-Jam said sarcastically. "This girl's got me scared to death. What am I going to do now?"

"All right, that's enough!" I said as I stood up. "You heard her, now beat it!" I wasn't angry yet, and frankly, that's the last thing I wanted to happen, because I'd hate it if these nice, sweet girls saw me lose my temper.

"Oh, really?" he said, imitating my accent.

_Here we go again, _I thought. To no one's surprise, T-Jam not only continued imitating my accent, but he was also thumping me in the chest, daring me to hit him back.

"Hey, leave him alone!" Abby shouted, jumping up and shoving T-Jam. Within a few seconds, everyone in that cafeteria was staring at us. And even thought I was trying to fight the urge to take a swing at this creep, I could feel my left fist slowly clenching, as though it had a mind of its own.

"Well," T-Jam smirked as he regained his footing. "Are you going to let these girls fight your battles for you? That's so sweet."

That was it. _That was just IT! _The next thing I knew, I had him by the neck and had slammed him against the wall. Just as I raised my fist to punch him out, I felt someone grab my arm and twist it behind my back. I looked out of the corner of my eye, and saw Kristy.

"Back off!" she barked.

"What's going on here?" an adult voice demanded.

I looked, and saw a tall man with thinning hair and glasses. Just as I'd expected, he was looking at me like I was the scrawniest, ugliest worm on the planet.

"He started it, Mr. Taylor," Kristy said, pointing her thumb in T-Jam's direction.

"All right, that's enough! If there's any more trouble, I'll see both of you in my office after school. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," I said as T-Jam slunk away. As I sat back down, I noticed the other girls looking at me in surprise. I could tell that was the last thing any of them expected to see. On the upside, none of them left to go sit somewhere else, or avoided me for the rest of the day, but I still felt like I'd made a lousy first impression.

The following Monday, I was leaving the guys' locker room after gym class, and was on my way to study hall, when I saw Kristy. "Hi, Kristy," I said.

"Hi," she answered. "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure."

"Well," she began as we headed to the library, "I told my mother and stepfather about what happened last week, and they weren't too happy. They said we should probably leave you alone."

I sighed and shook my head. "I'm really not surprised," I said. "The truth is, I've always had a bit of a problem with my temper. I'm sorry you had to see that, but all I was trying to do was stand up for you and your friends."

Kristy's face softened. "I understand, and I accept your apology, but promise me you won't do something like that again."

"Okay," I said.

"You know, my little stepsister seems to like you. In fact, all the way home from the library, she kept going on and on about how great she thinks you are."

"Really?" I asked. "Wow, that's really something!" See what I mean when I say that I have an effect on people?

"Have you ever done any baby-sitting?" Kristy asked.

"Only my stepsister," I answered. "Once about a couple of years ago, we were home alone after school, and she said that she wanted to watch Steve's new _Elvis: Aloha From Hawaii _DVD, so I put it on for her, then went to the kitchen for a couple of sodas, and there was a knock at the door."

"Did you ask who it was?" Kristy asked, looking me in the eye.

"Of course I did," I said. What did she think I was, an imbecile? "It turned out to be a woman from UPS wanting to drop off a package for Mum. Naturally, I looked through the keyhole and asked her to slide the clipboard through the mail slot so I could sign it. After she left, I took the package inside and put it on the kitchen table. Mum and Steve came home about half an hour later, and when I told htem what happened, they said that I'd done the right thing."

Kristy seemed really impressed. "That's exactly what I would've done," she said. "They must have been pretty proud of you, huh?"

"Well, yeah," I said, trying to sound modest.

"Would you like to sit with us at lunch again?"

"Sure!" I grinned.

I guess you've already figured out the rest of _this _story.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: This is the last chapter.

**CHAPTER 13**

I finished my autobiography on Friday night, and looked over what I'd written, as well as the pictures that Mum and I had saved over the years (not the strawberry shortcake one, of course), and thought I'd done a pretty good job on it. After all, like I'd said before, I had quite a story to tell, and in my opinion, I'd done just that.

I went into the living room to show my work to Mum, who was sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea and a cigarette. I sat beside her as she read, and I just knew that all those old memories were coming back to her: our arrival in America, meeting Steve and Bebe, their wedding, my self-defense training, the fight I'd gotten my scar in, Granny's funeral, and our move to Stoneybrook.

"Very nice, love," she said, handing it back to me.

"Thanks," I said. "I'm going to type this up tomorrow, and turn it in to my English teacher, Mr. Fiske, when I go back to school on Tuesday."

"Well, I'm sure you'll get a good grade on it," Mum said, taking one last puff on her cigarette and putting it out. "I know I really enjoyed reading it."

"Thanks, Mum. Well, I think I'll call it a night now."

"Okay," Mum said. "Good night, love."

"Good night." After a quick hug and kiss, I went back to my room, laid my work on my desk, and climbed into bed. As I drifted off to sleep, listening to Pink Floyd's _Dark Side of the Moon_, I had a pretty good feeling about the outcome of this project.

The next morning, I got up early, typed my autobiography, and did a spell-check. It was ready to be turned in.

In fact, I felt so good about my work, I decided to go for a ride on my motor scooter. It was almost 11:30, the sun was up, and the birds were singing, which was perfect weather for a bike ride.

"See you later, Mum," I called as I bounded out the door.

"Have fun," she called from the kitchen. "Don't stay out too long."

"I won't," I answered.

I headed out of the parking lot and started up McLelland Road, where Kristy lives. Karen and Andrew were playing in the front yard, under the watchful eye of Kristy's brother Sam, who's my age. When he saw me, we waved to each other. "Hey, Jason!" he called.

"Hi, Jason!" Karen called when she saw me coming.

"Hi, you two!" I called as I parked my motor scooter. As soon as I got off my bike, Karen and Andrew ran up and hugged me. They're so sweet. "How have you been?"

"Oh, pretty good," Andrew smiled. Even though he's really shy with people, he's always glad to see me.

"It's great to see you, Jason," Karen added. "What have you been up to?"

"Oh, not much. I just finished writing my autobiography," I answered.

"Your _what?" _Andrew asked. I could tell he had no idea what I was talking about.

"Autobiography," I answered, sounding each syllable out. "That means I wrote a story about my life so far."

One of the things I told them about was when Mum and I first came to America. "You must have been scared," Karen commented.

"I'll say," I agreed. "I'm just glad my aunt and uncle let us stay with them until we found a place of our own."

Just then, their dad, Watson, came to the door. "Karen! Andrew! Time for lunch!" he called.

"Hi, Watson!" I called, waving. He nodded, and waved back.

Karen and Andrew each gave me another hug and kiss, then went inside as I got back on my motor scooter and took off. A few minutes later, I found myself cruising up Bradford Court, which is where Claudia lives, and stopped outside her house. We'd just started dating during our school's recent production of _Carnival, _and next month, we were going to the Spring Dance.

"Hi, Jason!" Claudia called as she came out the front door. She was wearing a bright red oversized T-shirt with white sparkle-paint designs on it, black stirrup pants, and those rainbow sneakers she'd made. As she came down the steps, she put on a long-sleeved denim button-down shirt. Even if she was wearing the grungiest outfit in the world, she'd still look pretty hot.

"Hi, Claud," I smiled, turning off the motor. She ran to the curb and gave me a kiss on the lips.

"What have you been doing all weekend?" she asked.

"Oh, I've mostly been working on my autobiography," I answered.

"Oh, boy, they got to you, too, huh?" she said sympathetically. I could tell she was as far from thrilled about this assignment as she could be.

"Actually, I kind of enjoyed working on it," I confessed. "In fact, one of the things I wrote about was seeing the Bon Jovi concert at Madison Square Garden on my eighth birthday."

"No way! Really? That's so cool!" Claud exclaimed. "Do you mind if I read it sometime?"

"Not at all."

"Well, I was just on my way to the Rodowskys'," Claud told me. "Hopefully, we'll be able to get through the job in one piece."

"Yeah, I hear you," I agreed. I'm told that whenever one of the BSC members baby-sits there, they're always prepared for some kind of disaster. "Want a ride?"

"Sure, I'd love one!" She got on the back of my bike, and we were off.

I turned in my project on Tuesday. The following Monday, we got them back. I flipped to the back, got a good look at my grade (A+!), and the note from Mr. Fiske:

_Jason,_

_ First of all, excellent work! I could hardly put this down, it was such an interesting story, mainly your description of when you and your mother first came to America. I could really sympathize with you, and after reading your story, I believe that you're a survivor, in every sense of the word. Welcome to Stoneybrook! Carpe diem!_

_ Mr. Fiske_

**THE END**


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